


Crobby Snapshots

by madwriter223



Series: Domestic Crobby Fics [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cameos, Domestic, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Romance, Snapshots, a bit of blood, graphic smut, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 13:56:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2695547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madwriter223/pseuds/madwriter223
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pretty much what the title says. Done for the 30 Snapshots challenge on LiveJournal. Most and domestic fluff, some are smut, all of them are pure Crobby.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crobby Snapshots

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this years ago, but it's still my fav thing I've written. ^_^ I spruced them up a bit, for your enjoyment.

Bobby/Crowley Snapshots

 

 **Sharing Clothes**  
“I can't believe I have to resort to _this_.”

Bobby rolled his eyes. “Not my fault you ain't got any spare clothes.” he called from his spot on the couch.

“Well, excuse me for not thinking you'd spill coffee on me!”

“I already said 'sorry'.” After he had stopped laughing at the demon's disgruntled expression, that is. Still counts, right?

A moment later Crowley walked into the room, tugging at the clothes he was now wearing.

“At least they're clean.” the demon muttered to himself then turned to the hunter. “How do I look?”

Bobby stared. Crowley was dressed in an old ratty pair of jeans, a dark blue T-shirt and an unbuttoned flannel shirt. He looked... weird. Kinda incomplete. Like something was missing, but wha- oh, yeah.

Bobby took off his ball-cap and put it on Crowley's head, grinning to himself. “There. Now you look just like a regular jack-off idjit in need of a beer.”

Crowley scowled darkly. “You say the nicest things.” He snarked.

-  
 **Black Dog**  
There it was. The Black Dog that had been terrorising this bumfuck-town for the last two weeks. The symbol of impending disaster, the prelude to tragedy. Death's Omen.

There it was. Rolling on its back in the dirt, paws kicking and tail wagging like mad while Crowley rubbed its belly. And scratched behind its ear. Hell, a few moments before they had been playing fetch with a dead man's arm.

Dean stared in brain-fried disbelief, while Bobby just snorted.

“You should see him with the Hellhounds.”

-  
 **Comfort**  
Bobby ran the sponge across Crowley's shoulders, cleaning away the grime and blood. The demon didn't seem to notice, he just kept staring sightlessly, head hanging limply forward. Bobby watched him closely, waiting for the moment when the last piece of strength Crowley still had would-

And there it went; Crowley slumped against the wall, head thumping against the tiles. He didn't make a single move to sit back up, just stayed sagged against the wall, like a puppet which had been discarded on a whim.

Bobby sighed deeply and pulled the demon to his chest, uncaring that his clothes were getting wet. He held him up while he finished cleaning him, scrubbing till the skin was no longer marred by dirt.

He drained the tub and wrapped Crowley up in a clean towel then gathered him up against his chest. With a slight grunt, he hefted the demon out of the tub then lumbered over to the bedroom.

He set Crowley on the mattress and towelled him off roughly, rubbing a little more heat into the still chilled skin. He didn't bother with any sleeping wear, they'd just irritate the still healing wounds. He just pulled the covers up to the demon's chin, tucking it around him.

There, done.

“Better now?” He asked gruffly, sitting down next to the demon.

Crowley managed to open his eyes, though barely. He stared at the hunter for a long while then sighed heavily, his body going slack against the bedding. His head turned more towards the hunter and off he went to dreamland.

Bobby watched him sleep, subconsciously counting each breath the demon took.

-  
 **Wheelchair**  
Crowley arched his back, leaning so far backwards that he nearly slipped off. Bobby grabbed at him and started to pull him back, but it was already too late. The chair they were seated on tipped forward, and they tumbled to the floor in a sweaty pile of limbs.

Bobby glared slightly at the demon now pinned beneath him. “I told you sex in the wheelchair was a stupid idea.”

Crowley chuckled, looping his arms around the hunter's neck. “You liked it, dear. Now get off me before you catch a cold.”

Bobby scowled, then pumped his hips forward, pushing his cock deeper into Crowley. “Screw that. You promised me sex, I'm getting sex. So shut up, and hold on.”

Crowley grinned at the human, then pulled him down for a kiss, eagerly accepting the hunter's thrusts.

-  
 **Hunger**  
/HOWL/

“Crowley?”

“What?”

“It's your turn!”

“I'm making dinner. Besides, you said you'd do it today.”

“That was before my brain woke up, and I remembered what it entails.”

“A deal's a deal, luv.”

A huff. “Oh, come on.”

“I got you some swine, they're in the shed.”

“Alive?”

“What do you think? Go, before they go on a hunt for little lost humans.”

“Fine, fine. But tomorrow you're feeding the damn hounds.”

“What's the matter? You're not afraid they'll eat you, are you?”

“No. Watching them eat makes me wanna lose my lunch.”

“Wimp. Wash your hand when you're done, dinner'll be ready by then.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

-  
 **Trust**  
Bobby stared at the black collar in his hand, tracing the symbols etched onto the leather slowly.

He glanced at Crowley, who was standing next to him and staring somewhat expectantly at him.

“So, what you're saying is, if I put this on you, you'll lose all your powers.”

Crowley shifted. “Essentially.”

“You'll basically be human.”

“Got it in one.”

“And only I'll be able to take it off?”

“Only the one who puts it on can take it off.”

Bobby nodded to himself. It left only one more question. “Why did you give this to me?”

Crowley blinked, then sighed in mock-exasperation. “I'm just sick of you bitching at my demon-ness. One time you kicked me out of bed for not being 'out of breath' enough.”

Bobby frowned. He did? “Was I drunk?”

“Not the point.”

“Then what _is_ the point?”

Crowley rolled his eyes, and gave the hunter a pointed look, refusing to answer.

After a moment, Bobby got it. Both why the demon had gotten the damn collar, and how much trust he had in Bobby to actually give it to him.

So he took a step forward and wrapped the leather around Crowley's throat.

-  
 **Kitchen Table**  
Bobby set the plate of scrambled eggs in the middle of the table, right next to the bread, and sat down. Crowley poured coffee into their mugs, then brought them to the table, sitting down opposite the hunter.

Bobby waited for the demon to be settled before he reached for the bread. Crowley contented himself with drinking his coffee while he perused the newspaper, looking for any interesting situations he could make worse. Bobby buttered his bread and put a generous helping of eggs onto his plate. 

A moment of comfortable silence passed between them, then the hunter looked up at the demon and scowled. “I thought I told you that if you wanna eat with me, you have to actually _eat_.”

“I'm good.” Crowley lifted his mug pointedly. “But thanks, luv.”

“Shut the hell up and eat, or I'll shoot your ass full of rock salt.”

“Bon appetite, then.”

-  
 **Fingering**  
Bobby sat up and pulled the covers off them both, pooling the material over their feet.. He slipped his hand into the demon's boxers and pulled them down, revealing the shapely buttocks, in all their pale and round glory. Bobby stared at them for a moment with an appreciative eye. Say what you want about the demon, but he had one fine ass. 

The hunter lay one hand on the lovely buttocks, kneading at them slowly. His fingers slipped into the cleft, rubbing back and forth before they located the puckered opening. He rubbed the tip of his middle fingers against it, slowly applying more and more pressure. Finally one finger slipped inside; despite the lack of lube, Crowley gave easily around him, accepting even the second digit almost greedily.

The demon made a soft sound as Bobby pushed both digits as deep as they could go. He thrust them a few times, then scissored them, opening Crowley up. The hunter leaned forward so that he could see the ring of muscle parting around his fingers, the puckered skin stretching wide to accommodate him. Bobby liked his lips and curled his fingers as he pulled back, making sure to scratch lightly at the edge of the rim on the way.

Crowley murmured sleepily and shifted his hips. “Not that I mind this new wake up call, but don't start something you don't plan on finishing.” He murmured softly, a smile on his face.

Bobby smirked and grabbed the bottle of lube from his night-table, the squirted some onto his fingers. “Who said I don't plan on it?” He asked, pushing the digits back in.

In response, Crowley lifted himself onto his knees, wiggling his behind pointedly.

Good thing Bobby hadn't made any other plans for the morning.

-  
 **Dirty Talk**  
Bobby gave one last tug to check the lock and smirked. “How's that, then? Can't get out of that, can you? That's because those are specially warded cuffs. Warded especially against you. Can't do shit now, huh?

“I could do anything to you now. I could whip you till you're nothing more than a bloody mess of bruises. I could beat you black and blue, cut you open. I could rip off your clothes, and fuck you. No lube, no preparations, just my cock spearing into that tight hole of yours, forcing it open.

“And I bet you would like that, huh? Me taking that greedy ass of yours, riding it slow and hard and bloody. Cause I sure as Hell would take my time.

“By the time I'd be done, you'd be covered in blood and my spunk and begging me to let you cum.” He leaned forward, his breath ghosting over the demon's face. “So what do you think I should do then?”

Crowley stared at him with wide eyes and cheeks flushed a dark red. “Fuck me now.” He demanded breathlessly.

“Don't mind if I do.” Bobby grinned and unbuttoned his jeans.

-  
 **Talent**  
“Yo, Bobby!” Dean called, his mouth full of his second helping. “Where'd you get this?”

“I don't recall giving you permission to eat me out of house and home.” Bobby said gruffly, taking a swing of his beer.

“It's just one apple pie. Delicious apple pie.” Dean took another bite, nearly moaning at the heavenly taste. “D'you make it?”

“Nope.” Bobby waited for Dean to swallow and lift his fork again before continuing. “Crowley did.”

Dean froze, eyes wide as he stared at his full fork. His mind was screaming at him _Pie made by a demon, pie made by a **demon**!!_ over and over. 

Eventually, the 'pie' part of that sentence won out, and he took another bite, consequences be damned. 

_Damn_ good pie.

-  
 **Puppy**  
“Isn't he cute?” Crowley asked, grinning proudly.

Bobby glanced at the air the demon was holding then raised an eyebrow. “Have you been drinking?”

“Right, forgot you can't see Hellhounds.” Crowley glanced down at whatever it was in disappointment.

Bobby eyed the 'air.' “That's a little small for a Hellhound.”

“It's a _puppy_! Juliet had a litter recently.” And back Crowley went to grinning like a proud father.

“Congrats.” Cause seriously, what was he supposed to say?

“I thought we could keep one pup, raise it up. Maybe call him Rodimus.” It looked as if Crowley was pressing his cheek against the 'pup', but he couldn't be certain without seeing the damn thing.

Bobby drew one corner of his mouth back in a grimace.

“You want to hold him?” Crowley asked suddenly, and before he could answer, Bobby's hands were full of a hot ball of... something. He instinctively pulled it closer to his chest, and the little thing wiggled against him, panting across his fingers.

Aw, to Hell with it.

“He ain't sleeping in the bed.” he grumbled.

Crowley just grinned.

-  
 **Flush**  
Bobby lay his palms across Crowley's hips, clenching slightly whenever pleasure spiked or whenever Crowley moved particularly hard. The demon was riding him in earnest, whole body in clear view for Bobby to stare at. And stare he did. He watched as the skin glistened with sweat he hadn't known demon's could produce. He watched as the flush rose onto the cheeks, watched as it spread downward, as it covered the long neck, and as it bloomed across the chest. 

The same chest heaved with each breath, and flexed whenever Crowley arched his back and quickened his pace. His lips were parted slightly, a pink tongue sneaking out every few moments to wet them.

Bobby groaned and thrust his hips upwards, harshly back inside, and the flush intensified.

-  
 **Angels**  
Bobby continued glaring and kept the grip he had on his rifle. “You wanna run that by me again?”

Castiel straightened his back further (if that was even possible). “I was asked here to perform a check on your mind and soul to ascertain whether or not you are being manipulated or controlled by the demon Crowley.”

Gabriel grinned around his lollipop. “I'm just here for the lols.”

“The what now?”

Dean cleared his throat nervously, and Sam fidgeted slightly. “We, me and Sam I mean, thought we should make sure that, you know-”

“That Crowley isn't controlling me through my dick.” Bobby's tone was dry like a barbecued vamp.

Both Winchester looked very uncomfortable discussing this topic.

Bobby rolled his eyes and set the rifle down. “Idjits. Both of you.” He pointed to Cas. “You are a smaller idjit for going along with this, but an idjit nonetheless.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes and cocked his head to the side. “I do not understand. Do you not wish for me to proceed?” The hunter ignored him.

“And you-” Bobby pointed at the Archangel. “Go bother Crowley. He's at the back.”

“Sir, yes, sir.” Gabriel mock saluted and headed outside, dragging Castiel behind him.

-  
 **Afterglow**  
Bobby flopped down onto the bed, his breathing still somewhat erratic from their earlier exertion. Crowley mmm-ed next to him, and settled onto his side. He put his head on the hunter's shoulder and closed his eyes, sighing in satisfaction.

Bobby glanced at him and grinned crookedly, reaching out to mess the demon's hair even more.  
“Good look on you.”

“You charmer, you.” Crowley grumbled sarcastically, though without heat.

-  
 **Omen**  
Bobby glanced up from the car guts he was elbows deep in and frowned thoughtfully.

“Hey, Crowley!” He called towards the house. A few moments later one of the windows opened, and the demon leaned outside.

“You bellowed?” He asked, no sarcasm in his voice.

Bobby gestured towards the sky and the black clouds billowing in the distance. “I might be mistaken, but could that be an omen of the Apocalypse?”

Crowley stared for a moment at the clouds then snorted. “Yes, it is an omen. Of rain.”

“Yeah, thought so.” Bobby muttered under his breath.

“You're cute when you're paranoid.” Crowley said, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Can you blame me? Since the last two we averted, I'm still waiting for the third.”

“Not for another four years, Bobby-kins. Now come inside before it starts to pour.”

Bobby paused mid-nod and did a double take. “What do you mean 'four years'?!” But Crowley had already ducked back inside.

-  
 **Lighting**  
“You know, this is complete bullshit.” Bobby muttered, watching as Crowley sat on the floor, arms wrapped around three invisible bodies pressing against him.

Lightning flashed, thunder rolling in the distance and the invisible mutts whimpered pitifully. Bobby snorted.

Crowley scowled at him. “Shut up. How about you do something constructive and help me cuddle them, so they'll calm down sometime this century.”

“Your ass ain't that good to be worth cuddling with Hellhounds.” Bobby shot back, very comfortable in his favourite armchair and _not_ on the floor.

Crowley glared. “Then at least close the damn blinds before they piss fire and brimstone all over your carpet.”

 _That_ Bobby could do.

-  
 **Lurk**  
Bobby slammed the door behind himself and threw his bag onto the floor. “Crowley! Get your demon ass in here _now_!”

“What am I, your slave?” Crowley grumbled as he made his way from the kitchen, cleaning his hands on the dish towel. “So, how did the hunt go?”

“Screw that.” The hunter pointed an accusing finger at him. “What did I tell you about following me on jobs? Especially on jobs with _other hunters_?”

“Hey, why are you angry at me?” Crowley put up his hands innocently. “I was here the entire time, cooking victory dinner.”

“You really think I didn't see you lurking in the shadows the entire time?” Bobby nearly growled.

Crowley shrugged. “It's either that or having one of the hounds follow you.”

Bobby's hands clenched into fists. “I can take care of myself!” he yelled and stalked off towards the bathroom to clean up.

“Sure you can.” Crowley murmured under his breath, smirking fondly after him. “Does that mean I should just throw out the duck?” He called a heartbeat later.

“I'll clean up and be there in a minute, you stalker bastard!”

-  
 **Blood**  
The blood dripped down onto the floor, where it swirled in an ever growing puddle. Each twitch of the body sent more and more blood falling, each shudder sent a gush.

Crowley smirked to himself at a job well done and cleaned off his instruments. “Now, I really must be going. You know how it is when you're practically married, especially when the spouse is a human. So much responsibility he is.”

The body on the table tracked his movements with wide terrified eyes, clouded and murky from the extensive torture.

Crowley grinned the smile he knew could cause small animals to wet themselves. “I do hope I made my point clear during our little talk. Come near Bobby Singer again, and we'll just have to meet once more. Like this, only with a slightly... _better_ outcome. Better for me, at least.”

The terrified demon nodded weakly, head bobbing jerkily.

“Excellent.” Crowley smiled pleasantly and patted one of the open wounds. “And could you be a dear and let the rest of Hell know too?” He picked up a sharp knife and started gouging it into the skin surrounding one eye. “That Singer is mine, that is.”

Another jerky nod.

“So glad we had this talk. Ta, now.” And he disappeared, leaving the bleeding body on the table.

-  
 **Thirst**  
Sam frowned at the pitcher of pearly white liquid. He took it out of the fridge and gave it a tentative sniff. He winced at the sharp scent. “Hey, Bobby, what is this?”

Bobby glanced up from his sandwich. “No idea. Probably another of Crowley's culinary experiments.”

“Any idea?” Sam raised the pitcher to the light, squinting at the liquid.

Bobby took another bite of his sandwich. “Put it back. The last thing he had in a pitcher was a mix of blood, sperm and 100% proof alcohol for some ritual or other.”

Sam's both eyebrows lifted and knitted together. “...sperm?”

Bobby nodded. “The bastard called it Spermanade.”

Sam opened his mouth to ask something else, but nothing came out. He closed it after a moment and put the pitcher back in the fridge. On second thought, he wasn't that thirsty any more.

-  
 **Command**  
“You want me to do what?”

“Bond with the hounds. I'm sure spending some quality time together would do all of you some good.”

“Why, are they planning to eat me?”

“No, no, no. They already adore you and promised to rip anyone who tries to harm you to shreds. But that doesn't mean you can't spend more time with them.”

“This _is_ a plot to get me eaten, isn't it?”

“Now you're being paranoid again. Look, you can do human stuff with them. Teach them some tricks.”

“Like what? Sit or play dead?”

“I'd avoid using the d-word around them. Might give them ideas, and I know how you don't like it when they decrease the area's population.”

“I can't even see the damn things, how am I supposed to teach them to follow my commands?!”

“Fine, then play fetch with them. Just do something!”

“Will you tell me why?”

“Because I am sick and tired of you diving for the rifle whenever one of them barks. Now go and have fun. That's an order.”

Bobby crossed his arms stubbornly.

An exasperated sigh. “Will you go if I go too?”

“Possibly.”

“I'll go get my coat. But you'll be the one to throw the damn stick.”

“Fine.”

-  
 **Lubrication**  
“Why am I here again?” Bobby grumbled, pulling his cap lower so that it covered a little more of his face.

“Because I obviously need your opinion on this. I can't have you grumbling about 'weird ass' lube each time you insist on stretching me.” Crowley answered with a cheeky smirk and held up two bottles. “Strawberry or cherry?”

“Do we really need to have scented lube?” Bobby wasn't whining. He really wasn't. “And don't talk so loud.”

“Fine, not scented then.” The demon put the bottles back onto the shelf and selected two other bottles. “Tingling or warming?”

“I think that's really more your decision. And you're hot enough without any warming crap adding to it.”

“Why, Bobby, will the compliments never cease?” He put those bottles back as well, and another caught his eye. “How about this, then? Cooling. It's supposed to heighten the experience.”

Bobby thrust his hands into his pockets and glanced around for the umpteenth time, making sure no one who knew him was near. “Need I remind you of that whole ice-cube fiasco?”

“There's no pleasing you, is there?” Crowley narrowed his eyes at the human.

“What is wrong with simple KY?” Bobby demanded petulantly, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Nothing, I assure you.” The demon shrugged and picked up another bottle, looking over the ingredients. “But wouldn't you like something more... kinky?”

“I think between the two of us, we've got kinky covered for my tastes. Pick whatever the Hell you want, and I'll wait in the truck.” That said, Bobby ducked out of the store as quickly as he could.

Crowley came back with five different bottles of lube. The demon also mocked him for being a prude the entire way home.

-  
 **Dance**  
Crowley found the hunter in his private library, pouring over the crumpling pages of the Sumallian demon bible. The demon grinned to himself and sauntered inside. “Oh, Bobby-kins. You won't guess what I found in the attic.”

Bobby frowned up at him. “What were you doing in the attic?”

“Looking for dirt. And I found some quite juicy pictures.” Crowley waved his find around.

Bobby's frown only deepened. The demon grinned wider.

“I found some rather lovely pictures of you during when Disco was 'here to stay' in Sioux Falls.” He glanced at one of the photos he held. “I never thought you'd be able to pull off an afro.”

The hunter was scowling now. “Give me those.”

Crowley cradled them to his chest. “Oh no. Not until I share these with the world. I might even try to talk Castiel into taking me on a trip to the past to personally see you boogie-down.”

Bobby got up from his chair. “You. Will. Not.”

“No, you're right, of course. The little angel is too pious to help out a demon.” Crowley admitted with a pout. A second later he grinned. “Gabriel, on the other hand.”

Bobby lunged at the demon, but Crowley had already teleported or whatever away.

-  
 **Laughter**  
Gabriel pretty much was pissing his pants, he was laughing so hard. Crowley was laughing also, just not as openly.

On the dance floor, a much younger Bobby Singer rocked his body to the music. He snapped his hips to the side as he extended one arm in the air, a single finger extended.

Gabriel fell over, laughing his fool head off.

Crowley held onto his sides, laughing as well. Though he had to admit – Bobby Singer was a Hell of a dancer. He should probably blackmail Bobby into showing off his boogie-skills when they got back. 

-  
 **Toys**  
Bobby face-palmed as he stared from the butt-plugs the size of his arm to the whips that belonged more in a torture chamber. Not to mention the chains, paddles, gags, beads, colourful vibrators, feathers, ropes, whipped cream containers and every fucking thing else littered across his bed.

He blinked, considered the mass of perversion and turned to the demon. “When I okayed sex toys, this wasn't exactly what I had in mind.” He said slowly with a deadpan expression.

Crowley shrugged. “What? I didn't know your preference.”

“So you decided to rob a sex-shop instead.” The hunter gestured at the shit on his bed.

“What was I supposed to do, pay? I only indulge in that rot when you're with me, and you refused to accompany me this time, remember?”

“With good reason, apparently.” Bobby once again looked over the pile of every perverts' wet dream and sighed in resignation. “I'll pick the stuff that doesn't freak me the hell out, and we'll burn the rest. That fine with you?”

“Excellent, we'll have a merry little bonfire.” Crowley rubbed his hands together. “Should I invite your brats and their angels, too? We could make it a family thing.”

Bobby face-palmed again. Sometimes, he wondered what he had been drinking to agree to this relationship.

-  
 **Necking**  
Bobby kissed up Crowley's neck, sucking slightly at the spot just under the earlobe. He mouthed his way down, sucking firmly here and there, licking in other places. Crowley's breathing was heavy under the onslaught, however every once in a while he'd give a quiet chuckle or a fucking giggle. The sounds were small and barely there, so understandably, it took the hunter a few minutes to get annoyed enough to ask.

Bobby huffed and moved back so that he could send a glare at the demon. “What is so funny?”

“Your beard tickles.” Crowley explained with an amused grin, rubbing slightly at his neck.

Bobby scowled. “I ain't shaving my beard off for anybody.”

Crowley pecked him on the lips and wrapped his arms around the hunter's neck. “Who's asking?” He mouthed at one hairy cheek. “If you did, I just might leave you.”

“Promises, promises.” Bobby grumbled, but he pulled the demon into another kiss nonetheless.

-  
 **Fire**  
“So, while you were staking out the cemetery, I did some research of my own. Apparently, our nice little ghosty was murdered in this house. The killer stabbed her in the stomach, but she got away and bled all over the house on her way to the door. The killer got her before she could run outside and slaughtered her right there under the stairs. The place has been re-painted and refurnished since then, though I'm sure you know even a speck of blood is enough for a ghosty to hang around. I decided to lend a helping hand out of the goodness of my heart.”

Bobby glanced at the blazing inferno behind the demon. “So you decided to torch the entire place.”

Crowley dusted off his coat. “I was tempted to torch the street, just to be certain, but I think one house is enough.”

Bobby nodded. “You know, I think you just might've _actually_ helped me out here.”

“Why are you so surprised?” Crowley spread his hands with a shrug. “I'm an extremely helpful demon.”

Bobby snorted. “My hairy old ass. Now get in the truck before the law gets here.”

-  
 **Angry!Cuddle**  
 _A/N: Ever heard of angry!sex? Well, this is angry!cuddle. XD_  
Bobby sighed in exasperation as he watched the demon pacing to and fro across his yard, muttering in a rage to himself. He had told the damn idiot this new position was gonna give him an aneurysm, but nooo... He just _had_ to become the King of Hell, and now he has to deal with the idiots and morons he now ruled over. And the headaches.

One thing left to do, the human decided with a sigh.

“Oi!” he called, going down the steps of their home. Once at the bottom, he spread his arms wide and scowled. “Do your worst.”

Crowley stopped his infuriated pacing and glared hotly at the hunter. He took one menacing step forward and declared that “Rodimus chewed through your new truck.”

Bobby felt rage boiling in his belly. His new Ford? He'll _kill that **mutt**_!

Immediately, a purring demon was snuggling to his chest, pressing close and nuzzling against the thrum of human anger.

Bobby snarled and wrapped his arms around his demon. God dammit, the things he had to do.

-  
 **Bind**  
Bobby turned yet another the page and there it was. Finally. He should really use a bookmark more often. He read through the already familiar spell, mentally ticking off that he had all the ingredients for it.

It was a binding spell. One that would bind a demon to a human soul. If one where to leave permanently, so to speak, the other would follow. Either upstairs or downstairs.

The hunter glanced to the side at the demon. Crowley was currently sitting in his favourite chair, reading something or other by Pratchett. He wasn't even paying attention to the hunter. He was just sitting there and reading, no worries even in the presence of someone who killed his kind for a living.

That's trust for you, right? How would it be like if Bobby bound Crowley to him? What would the demon even think about the spell? Would he laugh? Would he demand a ceremony just to mock the hunter? Would he accept?

Eh, why ruin a perfectly good afternoon thinking about it. He'd propose the idea to the demon some other time.

-  
 **Business Trip**  
“Oh, honey, I'm home!” Crowley called as he walked through the front door.

Bobby walked out of the library to greet him. “Where the Hell have you been?”

“Business trip!” The demon declared cheerily. “I managed to close twenty deals in three days. Gotta be a record.”

Bobby crossed his arms. “How many of them did you kiss?”

“Now Robert, I did promise you I wouldn't kiss anyone who'd actually enjoy it.” Crowley patted his cheek patronizingly. and reached into his jacket. He took out a champagne bottle shaped like the Eiffel Tower and pressed it against the hunter's chest. “Brought you a gift. Straight from Paris.”

Bobby snorted, but he grabbed the bottle. “Next time, leave a note or something.”

“Were you _worried_ about little ol' me?” Crowley fluttered his eyelashes at him.

“Not even a little.” Bobby flushed slightly. “The damn hounds have been howling every night. Hard to sleep with all that racket.”

Crowley pursed his lips in amusement. “Somehow, I don't believe you. Wanna toast to my record then have celebratory sex on the kitchen floor?”

“Make that the kitchen counter, and I'm in.”

“I'll get the glasses then.”

-  
 **Family**  
Bobby flipped the burgers on the grill and looked out at his backyard. Sam was engrossed in a book, lost to the whole world as he flipped the pages. Dean was explaining the value of vintage cars to Castiel, who was nodding as he listened raptly, eagerly soaking up the attention. A little to the side, Gabriel had abandoned his magically floating hammock to play fetch with the Hellhounds.

And there came Crowley, with a tray full of lemonade and two jars of sauce – one salsa, one sweet and sour. “How's the family barbecue coming along, luv?”

Some family they were. Three hunters, two angels and one demon with a small herd of Hellhounds. Still, you don't chose family, right?

So Bobby leaned over and gave his demon a quick kiss on the lips. He grinned, then called “Burgers are done!” to the others.

END


End file.
